It had been youth, also, that had caused her to fall in love with graceless Jim Aviolet, and give herself to him in marriage.
“As bad a day’s work as ever I did in my life,” Rose now summed up that episode to herself with a sigh, adding always with remorseful loyalty, “except for Ces.”
She had Cecil with her all day now, and at night he slept in a cot drawn across the foot of her bed. She felt him to be hers again, as she had never felt him so at Squires, and rejoiced fiercely.
Nevertheless it dawned upon her slowly, but certainly, that Cecil was neither as well nor as happy as he had been at Squires.
Healthy he had always been, but he was not a robust child, and in rather less than a week the difference in diet, the cramped accommodation, and, perhaps, most of all, the absence of country air and exercise, had taken some of the colour from his face and drawn dark lines beneath his eyes.
“Grandmama would say I was selfish, fast enough, if she saw him now, and I’m not sure she’d be so far out as she generally is, either,” Rose reflected desperately.
She consulted Uncle Alfred.
“About how I’m to live, Uncle,” she began abruptly. “What would you say would be a good way for me making money?”
“I thought your husband’s family were providing for you?”
“I mean, supposing I didn’t want them to go on providing for me.”